


three words i’m not ready to say (“i” and “love” and “you”)

by stars_aligning



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fever, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Nausea, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Michelle Jones, Romance, Sick Peter Parker, Stomach Ache, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_aligning/pseuds/stars_aligning
Summary: ‘Michelle laughed. “I think I kinda do, nerd. Someone has to make sure you don’t die, or do some stupid shit while you’re sick.”’(Or: an uncomfortable Michelle takes care of a sick Peter, six months into their relationship, and almost gets scared away in the process.)
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 97





	three words i’m not ready to say (“i” and “love” and “you”)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Marvel Cinematic Universe Secret Santa Spectacular, as hosted by Brentinator and I. Hope you enjoy this, my giftee! <3 <3

Peter is weak and fatigued from hours of being ill; sickly pale besides the dark rings underneath his eyes, his forehead shining with a thin layer of sweat. He's shivering violently despite the raging fever, and kneeling on the cold bathroom floor in just his boxers and a t-shirt, hunched over the toilet bowl.

His shoulders roll with an exhausted, breathy gag, only bringing up a thin stream of bile, that burns his throat and makes him cough. A string of spit hangs off his lower lip.

He's extremely tired and delirious. He curls up on the freezing bathroom tile, whimpering miserably, and pressing his hot face to the cold tile, before going unconscious on the floor.

—  
  


"Peter?" Michelle calls out, three hours later, as she opens the now-unlocked door. Stepping past the threshold and into the apartment, she sets her things on the kitchen table nearby and slips off her shoes (she knows that, ever since May found out about Peter being Spider-Man, she prefers to keep all dirt and crimson-coloured liquids out of the house, instead of in it), before she continues her walk. _'It's quiet,'_ she thinks. _' Too quiet.'_

"Peter?" She calls again, this time much louder. His bedroom door is old and blue, with the paint chipping here and there, and he probably can't hear her if he's asleep, but she decides to try anyway, and knocks.

No answer.

She's about to do it again, when she hears something; a low, pain-filled groan, that's coming from the washroom.

"Peter!" She shrieks, as she finally spots her boyfriend, and runs toward him. He's lying on the ground, unconscious, and covered in sweat, and though she's disgusted by it and shocked by the raging heat coming from him, she ignores it and, instead, gently turns him over on to his back. "Peter," she speaks again, patting his cheeks lightly. "Can you hear me?"

She's expecting silence again, or maybe another groan, but is instead pleasantly surprised when Peter's tired eyes open, his brown, coffee-like ones, connecting with her own chestnut ones. "MJ?" he slurs, his voice sounding hoarse and raspy. "Wh'—?" He stops to cough. "Wha' you doin' here?"

Michelle rolls her eyes and shakes her head, and helps her boyfriend sit up, right against the bathtub. Then, instead of answering his question, she fills a small paper cup from under the sink with water, and hands it to him when it's been filled halfway. "I came looking for you," she finally replies. "You didn't come to school today and Ned was worried when you didn't answer any of his texts."

Peter glances at her, his eyes filled with fever, and his tone joking. "Really?" he asks, skeptically. "Ned was worried?"

Michelle nods. "Oh, yeah," she says, sarcastically. "Was a total mess and everything. Cried right in the middle of chemistry about it, too."

Seeing as her boyfriend's too exhausted to respond, Michelle takes the lead and allows him to place his head on her shoulder, before she continues talking. "So," she says, wrapping her hand in his, and breaking the momentarily silence. "Are you going to tell me why you were lying here on the ground, or were we gonna have to play Twenty Questions?"

Opening his mouth, Peter seems like he's about to shake his head, this time. But, then, he remembers that said limb is rested in between her neck and her shoulder, and just settles for burying his face deep into her dark, dusky curtain-like hair, instead. "Jus' felt sick," he answers, at last. "Stomach's been hurting a lot. Bu' May's out on twelve 'our shift, so... home alon'."

Michelle frowns. She has an odd urge to run her hand through Peter's curls as they talk, but also doesn't want to remove her hand from his, so she doesn't really know what to do. "And you didn't think to call her? To see if she'd come home?"

Peter spoke quietly, his voice disappointed and a tad sad. "Can't. New job, pays more. We need the—" Clearing his throat, the boy stopped to cough, and Michelle moved her hand to rub his back as he did. "—The m-m'ney."

"And Pepper didn't pick up? Or Happy, or Rhodey? Or literally anyone else?"

Peter lowered himself down and laid his head on her lap, too worn out to hold it up anymore, even with the help of her neck and shoulder. "Nuh. Didn't wanna be a burden. Didn't wanna—" Another cough. "Didn't wanna bo'her them, MJ."

The girl smirked. "Oh, so you just decided to wait until someone came over to check up on you instead?"

Peter nodded, his eyes slowly starting to blink close. "Yea'. You know me so well."

Michelle shook her head. She was annoyed and exasperated, both at her boyfriend and the fact he was so stubborn and thought so lowly of himself, but was also more amused than anything. "Alright," she stated, her smile hiding it's place on her face, as she gently nudged Peter's head off her knees. "Well, as I much as I love lying here with you, I kinda have to get up eventually, nerd."

Peter looked both shocked and offended, as he watched her get up. "Where're you goin'?" he asked.

Standing up, Michelle stretched her legs, before crouching down, finding some towels underneath the sink, and slipping them under her boyfriend's head. "To make some calls," she explained. "And while I do that, you're going to take a shower, get into some clean pyjamas, and get your butt back in bed. I may have to take care of you, but there's no way I'm letting you get me sick—especially with your dumb stomach flu or strep throat. And I suspect you have both."

Peter squinted, and watched his girlfriend's retreating form. "Thank you!" he called after her.

He got no response.

—

  
"So, how is he?" Michelle asked, a good hour and a half later, as she stood with Ned's dad outside Peter's bedroom door. The patient in question was now sleeping peacefully, and although Michelle was still a bit anxious, she was also a bit grateful Peter was sleeping—at least now it was in a bed, and not on a dirty tiled floor. "Is he going to be okay, Mr. Leeds?"

"It's Tom," the man spoke, gently, so as not to wake the boy on the other side of the room. "But, yes, he will be okay." Taking a crumbled piece of paper out from the pocket of his overcoat, he had then given it to the girl across from him. "However, I do have a theory that, although Peter will likely recover from this much faster, because of his healing factor, it'll also make it so it's ten times worse for him. That being said, I want someone to be with him at all times, and I want his fever and how much he drinks to be monitored as well."

"Alright." Michelle nodded, and stuffed the instructional note into her pocket, figuring she could read it later. "I think I can do that."

"Good." This time, it was Tom's turn to nod. "And, if he can't keep anything down, then give me another call, and I'll drive him down to my office, so we can set up an IV and monitor him there. And, let me know if you have anymore questions, okay?"

"Wait." Michelle reached a hand out, and awkwardly tucked a lock of her tresses behind her ear when she realized the man would hear her out, and wouldn't actually be leaving yet. "If he's in pain or whatever, what medicine do I give him? Normal stuff isn't going to work, so what do I do?"

"Just double the dosage," Tom replied. "But, no more than that; and, if you're really worried about him accidentally overdosing, then just call me or my office, and we'll see if we can work something out."

Michelle took a deep breath, and sighed. She was still uncomfortable with taking care of her boyfriend of six months, but at least now she had an idea of what to do, and felt a lot more confident about it. "Okay," she finally spoke, avoiding eye contact with the man, and briefly wondering why she was so awkward, as she led him to the door. "Thank you so much, Mr. Leeds. And can you tell Ned I'll call him later? Let him know what's up?"

The man smiled and nodded, as he sensed how much the girl cared for the sick superhero. He knew Ned had mentioned that she'd been added to their friend group (five? Six years ago, now?), but he never met her, and was glad to, even if it was because of a house-call for Peter. "It's Tom," he repeated once more, as he stood outside the apartment. "But, of course, Michelle."

—

"MJ?"

"Hey," the girl greeted, a little over half an hour later, as she watched her boyfriend's eyes slowly open. Lowering her sketchbook from where she was previously looking at it up-close, she placed it on the nightstand beside the bed, and reached forward to squeeze her boyfriend's hand. "How're you feeling, nerd?"

"Still sick," the boy answered, and Michelle gently nudged the lined trashcan she prepared, closer with her feet, in case he had to throw up again. "But better, I guess. Stomach's still sore, though."

Michelle bit her lip. She hoped she was doing okay with this whole 'caretaker' thing. "Pain or nausea?" she asked.

"Both," Peter told her, honestly, as he wrapped an arm around his abdomen. "But more pain."

"Do you want to try taking some medicine?" she questioned. "I talked to Ned's dad and he said that it was okay, and that all I had to do was double the dosage."

Peter shook his head gently, careful not to make his slight vertigo worse, and snuggled under the warm blankets of his bed. "Maybe later," he replied. "'M not up to it right now. Don't think I'll keep it down."

Michelle mentally sighed upon hearing this, but didn't let the emotion show and, instead, just frowned. She didn't want to push Peter (May had told her the numerous stories of how he was when he was sick), but she also didn't want him to get dehydrated either. "Okay," she agreed. "Just try and get some rest, then. Your aunt's working until midnight, right?"

Peter nodded, but didn't say anything else. In fact, it looked like his eyes were beginning to flutter shut, so Michelle took that as her cue, and lightly pulled up the covers over her boyfriend's shoulder, and tucked him in. "Then I'll stay until she gets back. I don't want you to be alone."

Peter opened his eyes and squinted at her, but didn't move his head from where it was resting on his pillow. "You don't have to," he replied.

Michelle laughed. "Considering what Ned's dad said, I think I kinda do, nerd. Someone has to make sure you don't die or do some stupid shit while you're sick." Leaning forward, she had then brushed her hand through his sweaty curls, before placing a kiss on his equally-sweaty forehead. "I mean it, though, Parker; get some sleep."

Peter didn't make any move to reply this time, but watched her walk across the room, and called out to her when she reached the threshold. "MJ?" he asked.

The girl paused, the hand that was going for the light switch stilling. "Yeah?"

Peter smiled. It looked slightly drunk, but also delirious and happy, even though she was in no way prepared for what was said next. "I-I love you."

If Michelle had something in her hands, she would've dropped it. She knew their first "I love you's" would come eventually, but she was still in no way prepared, and definitely didn't expect for it to happen now (while Peter was sick, delirious from a raging fever, and probably wouldn't even remember it).

"Thanks?" she just whispered, not knowing how to respond, and if she wanted to say it back or not. "I'll be in the kitchen, if you need me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated, and I’m open to requests. :)


End file.
